


A Hole in the Heart

by Aragarna



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6452365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/pseuds/Aragarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal's been shot and Peter's heart is bleeding to see his friend lying on a gurney in the Emergency Room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hole in the Heart

It isn’t happening. It can’t end that way. Peter will not accept it. It just isn’t acceptable. It would be unbearable. Intolerable. The simple thought of it is already killing him. Peter refuses to accept it.

His heart is bleeding.

He is staring desperately at Neal, on the other side of the glass, who is truly bleeding his life out on a hospital gurney. There is so much blood. Neal’s blood. It’s also all over Peter’s shirt and hands. He tried desperately to stop the blood from leaving Neal’s body, but it kept pouring through his fingers, spreading on Neal's chest, soaking his shirt, suit, Peter’s jacket.

Why did he have to jump and take that bullet for him? _Why Neal, why would you do something so stupid?_

The bullet hit him close range, right in the chest – Peter prays that it didn’t touch the heart – and Neal fell, stopped in his momentum, at Peter’s feet. The Agent fell on his knees as he shot orders to call 911. Neal’s face was contracted with pain. He tried to talk, but couldn’t. He gripped Peter’s arm, with all his force. His blue eyes, filled with fear, seemed to implore Peter to do something, not to let him die. That imploring gaze is still haunting Peter.

He wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve.

He was terrified. He pressed his hand on Neal’s chest, so hard that his friend let go a scream that ripped Peter’s heart. And yet that was still not enough to block the bleeding.

_“Hold on, Neal, just hold on.”_

He wanted to put a protective hand on Neal’s forehand, but all he did was spreading Neal’s own blood over his face.

Blood. Everywhere. Coloring his vision. _Neal_ ’s blood. Peter feels suddenly sick and suppresses a retching.

Things aren’t supposed to be that way. Peter is the Federal Officer. He is the one putting his life on the line for others. Not the other way round. Neal is just a civilian. An _unarmed_ civilian.

It’s all his fault. Neal was – is – his responsibility. He was supposed to keep him safe. Guilt adds to fear. He failed.

Neal’s life seemed to leave him so quickly. His gaze shadowing, his grip losing fierce, and Peter’s despair growing.

_“Stay with me, Neal!”_

It’s his fault, and it’s Neal who is paying the price. It should have been Peter on this gurney.

What he sees through the glass is shattering his soul. Anonymous hospital personal in blue scrubs are cutting Neal open. Sticking things in his body. He can hear the monitor alarms beeping. They shock him, and Peter jumps as the electrical impulse shakes Neal’s heart. It’s unbearable, but he can’t look away. He has to be there, to hold that invisible thread of life connecting Neal to him.

_“Don’t you dare die on me!”_

It might be his last words to his partner and friend, and he yelled at him. An irrepressible sob shakes him and Peter beats his lips.

Diana approaches him. He flinches as she puts her hand on his shoulder.

“I called Elizabeth,” she says.

Peter nods. He doesn’t dare look at her. He can’t speak. He knows that the minute he tries to talk, or crosses someone’s gaze, he’ll fall apart. He holds on to the glass, he holds on to Neal’s life, with all his heart. Because a world without Neal would be too hard, too bleak, too damn quiet.

He should have told Neal, how proud he was of him, how much the young man meant to him, how important their friendship was to him.

_is_ to him. Because this is not the end of it. It can’t be. It can’t be…

Please Neal, don’t die.

\-----------------------------------------

  
An eternity later, Peter is in the waiting room on the Surgery floor. Elizabeth has joined him. They’re seated in the uncomfortable plastic chairs, awkwardly holding each other across the armrests. Elizabeth has one arm around Peter’s waist and is holding his hand with her free hand. They haven’t exchanged a word. What for? No platitude would make them feel any better, and they know each other well enough not to have to pretend.

Elizabeth didn’t ask, and Peter assumes Diana told her what happened – for which he is immensely grateful, because he wouldn’t have had the strength to explain. The pain is too raw, too deep, like a hole in his heart.

A doctor in scrubs approaches Peter and a cold shiver runs through his body, from toes to scalp.

“Agent Burke?”

Peter and Elizabeth stand up. He staggers and he feels Elizabeth leaning heavily on him, clutched to his arm. He can’t face the doctor. Instead he stares at the door he came from. Where Neal is, somewhere.

“Please doctor, don’t say it. Not just yet.” Peter’s voice is barely more than a whisper. His voice – hollow, cavernous – sounds foreign to him.

He’s picturing Neal’s unconscious body on the surgery table. His face is chalk white, but finally peaceful. The world gets blurry and starts spinning. Peter’s chest is hurting. It feels like his heart has stopped. He realizes he’s holding his breath and forces himself to take a large gulp of air. The voice of the doctor finally reaches through the haze of his brain.

“… ould recover.”

Peter blinks and looks at the doctor, who puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Surgery went well, Agent Burke. Your friend should be fine.”

The rest of the doctor’s words are lost to Peter. But their true meaning sinks in slowly, and Peter feels the world steadying as the fog of his mind subsides gradually. Neal is going to live.

Now his heart his racing, beating hard against his ribcage. Peter feels the urge to kiss the doctor but somehow it’d seem inappropriate. So he kisses his wife instead.  
Eyes shining with tears, he looks at the man who saved his friend’s life.

“Thank you doctor,” he whispers.

 

Fin.  



End file.
